The I Love You Song
by Rin22
Summary: I can’t just sit on the sidelines anymore, Jordan. You mean too much to me, and I’m sick of being one step behind some other guy.
1. The I Love You Song

**Disclaimer: psht… I'm joining Nynaeve1723's coup **

**AN: This is something that has been stirring in my brain for a while, and I thought I would put pen to paper and see what happened… it could be a one shot… it could be a chapter story… it could be an excuse for me to use a lot of ellipses… who knows…**

**I'm partial to reviews, if you are so inclined**

**The I Love You Song**

Tingling sensations finally alerted Jordan Cavanaugh to the fact that the water running over her hands was practically ice cold. She clenched her teeth together and grimaced, pulling the coffee cup out from under the faucet and shutting the water off. The cup went directly onto the drying rack by the sink, and Jordan's pink hands went directly to the towel next to it. She rubbed them hard, working warmth back into her skin. The cold did not bother her half as much as the realization that her emotional tactics for avoiding pain were potentially starting to creep into a physical avoidance. Delayed reactions to temperature and slight bumps or cuts were becoming a daily occurrence. Jordan did not know what to do about it. Nor did she know if she wanted to do anything about it.

Once the warmth had been restored to her hands, Jordan turned and surveyed her current living situation. The studio apartment she had been renting under a false name for the last month had been neglected by her for many reasons, the least of which was that she could not stand to be cooped up in the small space for too long. Clothes were everywhere. A makeshift laundry line stretched from her shower curtain to a bookshelf. She had not wanted to frequent any establishment in DC, including laundry services, and therefore resorted to doing many things from home. Her bed remained unmade and was nearly obliterated by stacks of papers. Research on any little clue.

Jordan ran her hands over her face. The cup of tea she had made for herself had done little to sooth her nerves. Her situation was never easy to deal with, but some days were worse than others. Today was one of those days. She had unfortunately glanced at the front page of a newspaper and seen a headline that made her stomach turn: "Reporter's death still a mystery; main suspect at large."

Not only was the case far from being solved, but they had not let up on publicizing it at all. Every mention of the case on TV or in the paper made Jordan jumpy. For the first time in her life, she truly feared that things would not work out and there was nothing she could do about it. Running had made trying to clear her own name next to impossible. Besides that, the searches that she _had_ been doing had turned up empty. Each day that she came up empty handed she began to question more and more if there truly was another person responsible for JD's murder. The investigation had dragged on just a little long for her liking. She was tired. She wanted it to be over. Even if that meant accepting responsibility for the crime, so long as it was finally over.

The soft rap on the door nearly made Jordan jump out of her skin. Her hands flew to the counter and gripped it tightly, forcing her heart out of her throat and back into her chest. Holding very still, she prayed that whoever it was would think she wasn't home and just go away. The knock came again, a little louder this time. Her lips pleaded silently for the person to walk away.

"Jordan?"

The voice was so soft that she wasn't sure she had heard correctly. Her heart thudded violently and she stared at the door, unsure of what to do.

"Jordan, are you in there?"

A tear slid down her cheek. The voice, so familiar to her ears, comforted her in ways she hadn't felt in months. Pushing away from the counter, she crossed the small space of her apartment and carefully unlocked the heavily bolted door. She opened it halfway, not completely trusting of the outside world, but halfway was enough to reveal the tall form standing on the other side.

"Nigel…" his name escaped her lips somewhere between a question and an answered prayer.

He stared at her, his eyes filling with tears along with hers. His face was worn with worry, but as he stood before her the worry dropped away into desperate relief.

"How did you find me?" Jordan asked in disbelief.

"Are you seriously asking me that question?" he said, his voice choked with emotion, and he moved forward through the doorway and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Jordan felt a sob rise up inside her as she sank into the first real human contact she'd had in over three months. Her arms went instinctively around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She felt one of his arms tighten possessively across her back, the other cradling her head to him. They stood like that for a long time, each afraid that letting go would somehow make it a dream. Eventually, Jordan realized that it wasn't a dream and that Nigel had found her despite her epic efforts to hide. She pulled back gently and looked up at him.

"Is it over?" she asked quietly, terrified of the answer. Nigel's face fell ever so slightly.

"No," he told her, releasing her from his arms. "The investigation is still full force. Bloody morons are going about it all wrong, too."

"So push them in the right direction -"

"We're not allowed to touch the case, Jordan," he said, visibly upset. "They won't let us anywhere near it."

"When has that ever stopped us before?" Jordan asked him with a slight smirk. He returned it halfheartedly. She studied him for a moment. "How _did_ you find me?"

Nigel rolled his eyes.

"Believe it or not, Jordan, you leave hints when a part of you wants to be found. And I really am just that good," he added teasingly. She smiled, but it quickly faded and they fell into an awkward silence. Nigel's brows dropped in concern. "I'm the only one who knows where you are," he said, trying to reassure her. "Although Macy has a pretty strong suspicion that I wasn't using my vacation to go to Hawaii."

Jordan nodded, rubbing a hand along her arm. Nigel's eyes dropped to the floor.

"I wish I had something more to tell you. Something more encouraging," he said regretfully.

"No, Nige, it's okay," Jordan said quickly. "I understand. You're doing what you can. I'm just… unbelievably happy to see you."

"Yeah?" Nigel looked up hopefully. Jordan flashed him a genuine smile. "I'm happy to see you too, love. More than happy," he told her. His hand reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I've missed you a lot, Jordan."

"Oh? I thought you guys would have gotten used to my disappearing act by now," Jordan attempted to joke with him, keenly feeling his seriousness.

"Not something one gets used to easily," he admitted.

She gave a small laugh and nodded.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea?" she asked, heading over to her refrigerator and opening it. She bit her lip. "That's pretty much all I've got."

"Good to see you're taking care of yourself," he said sarcastically, walking over to her and leaning against the small counter. "Tea's fine."

Jordan grabbed the teapot, still warm from her earlier attempts at relaxation, and refilled it with water and placed it on the burner. She could feel Nigel's eyes on her all the while. When she had flipped the burner on, she glanced up at him. He met her eyes.

"You trying to start a staring contest here?" she asked flippantly.

"Jordan… there's a lot of questions I want to ask you about all of this," he started carefully.

"I don't doubt it. But I don't know if I even have answers to half of them," she told him honestly. "Why did I run? Why DC? Because I had to. I didn't see any way out, I didn't know what else to do."

"Have you found anything here?" Nigel asked, his professional curiosity kicking in.

"Nothing but dead ends," Jordan said. They were silent for a moment, listening to the sound of the water boiling. Then Jordan asked the question she had been rolling over in her mind since she had arrived in Washington. "Nigel, what if they never find evidence that points to anyone else?"

"They will."

"But what -"

"They will, Jordan," he said firmly. He shifted his weight, running his thumb along the edge of the counter nervously. "I'll crash the investigation if I have to. I'm not going to let them put you behind bars for something I know you're not capable of. I'm not going to lose you again."

Jordan looked up at him, her eyes widened slightly in confusion. Had she heard him right? Reaching out, she stilled the movement of his hand on the countertop. She waited for him to speak.

"Wisconsin detectives, Danny McCoy, and Aussie reporters I can try to ignore, not to speak ill of the dead" he said softly, avoiding her eyes. "Murder charges I will fight."

"Nige…"

"This was not exactly my intent when I decided to find you," he said, a little embarrassed and trying to gather his nerve. "But now that it's out in the open, there's not much point in trying to pretend anymore. I can't just sit on the sidelines anymore, Jordan. You mean too much to me, and I'm sick of being one step behind some other guy and too nice to do anything about it."

He hesitated only a moment, then tugged her close to him and lowered his mouth to hers. Jordan shocked herself as she felt her arms slide up around his neck and, quite unexpectedly, found herself responding hungrily to his kiss.

* * *

**Do I hear an encore? **


	2. I Can't Do That With You

**Okay, Italy won the World Cup. My world just got a hundred times better. I can continue with my story now!**

**Thanks for all the reviews; they are ALWAYS very much appreciated, especially on stories that go against the status quo.**

**Disclaimer: I think I've made myself clear on who truly owns Crossing Jordan these days**

**VIVA L'ITALIA!**

* * *

**I Can't Do That With You**

Jordan couldn't think. Her mind raced for a coherent thought, but none would come. The months of being alone had made her starved for a connection with another human being, and it was too easy to stand there and let Nigel do as he wished with her mouth. In all her time on the run, she never would have thought that he would be the one to come after her. If she had expected anyone, it was Woody. But it made sense in a way. She shared something with Nigel that she did not share with anyone else, even the blue eyed detective. She just never considered that Nigel would want to bring their relationship to another level.

And that other level was starting to become more apparent.

Her body and mind jolted, one from neglected nerves and one from shock, when Nigel's hand slipped under her shirt and skated across her light cotton bra. She started. He must have felt it, because he broke away from her and pulled back, looking at her with concern and a little regret.

"I…sorry," he muttered, gently placing her away from him.

"No, it's okay," Jordan said, shaking her head. She ran her hands up the sides of her face and into her hair. Why couldn't she get a grip on what she was feeling? Or say something appropriate to wipe the look of hurt off of his face?

"Uh…look, Jordan," Nigel started, growing uncomfortable in the silence. "I never expected anything. I just, um…I couldn't keep going on as though I didn't feel that way for you in the slightest. Especially with everything that's been happening. It was driving me crazy. But if you don't -"

"Nige," Jordan cut him off, then stopped, realizing she didn't know what to say. She thought for a moment, watching anxiety creep onto his face. "I don't really know what to think," she told him honestly. "I can't say I'm _entirely_ surprised. Or…entirely against it," she added with a small smile.

His eyes brightened at the remark. His face told her how much he had been wanting this. How much it must have killed him to have her flee Boston without a word. She had always suspected he might have harbored some romantic feelings for her, and she wouldn't deny that there had been times in the past when she had felt the spark of flirtation between them. But in her mind, it always translated into a platonic flirtation, the teasing of siblings in most cases. _In most cases_, her mind echoed.

"Did you come here because of this?" she asked.

"I came here to make sure you were all right," he told her, and she believed him. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm as all right as a fugitive can be," she said with a lopsided smile.

"Jordan, you're avoiding," Nigel chastised.

"Now when have I ever avoided anything?"

Nigel fixed her with an _Oh please_ look. She looked away nervously.

"I guess I'm just not used to talking things out," she confided, looking down at her now clasped hands. "I've gotten stuck in the 'Let's see how things go' rut."

"If I can be blunt," he said in a way that told her he wasn't asking for permission. "You were put in that rut by other people. And you don't deserve to be there."

Jordan looked up at him. It had been a very long time since anyone had voluntarily taken the burden of blame off her shoulders. Nigel was always supportive of her and honest when he needed to be, and she loved him for it.

"I've screwed up a lot of relationships by jumping blind into situations without thinking of the consequences," she told him. "And I've hurt people because of it. I can't do that with you."

A shadow fell over his face, and he dropped his eyes away from hers.

"I understand," he said quietly.

Jordan stepped forward and placed a hand on the side of his face, lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

"You told me I mean too much to you to let this chance slip away," she began. "And you mean too much to me for me to do what I've done with every other fucked up, textbook worthy relationship I've had. I can not let myself hurt _you_ of all people. So…if you want this…we need to slow down and think."

"What are you saying?" Nigel asked, unsure of how to interpret her statement.

Jordan let her hand drop to his shoulder and smiled up at him.

"I'm saying, let's start by getting dinner, and we'll take it from there," she said.

* * *

Despite her attempts to keep from doing regular business anywhere in DC, Jordan had found a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away from her apartment that she had gone to on more than one occasion. They had a honey-walnut shrimp dish that she found too satisfying to stay away from, and she reasoned that she deserved something satisfying in a life on the run. So she took Nigel there, and they did their best to share a normal dinner under the circumstances, and practically succeeded, too.

Jordan had forgotten how much she enjoyed Nigel's company. She had ached for everyone at the morgue from the moment she arrived in DC, but the strain of hiding out had forced those feelings to the back of her mind over the months. Not being able to miss them had hurt even more than the actual missing. Now, in Nigel's presence, she felt flooded with everything she had suppressed.

Nigel, ever the gentleman, paid for dinner and placed a slightly tentative hand around Jordan's waist as they walked down the street. She tried to put him at ease by relaxing into his side. At the moment, she was content to accept the closeness he was offering.

"I'm glad you're here," she said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

"I can imagine it must get lonely."

"Running away isn't all it used to be," she said, only half joking.

"Sweet Mary, I think she's finally seen the light!" Nigel exclaimed in mock surprise.

"Yeah, sure," Jordan laughed at him. Her smile dropped away and she swallowed. "I, um, I didn't want to," she added, her voice betraying the sadness she was trying to hide. "If there was another way…but I couldn't – damn it, I sure know how to ruin a good evening, don't I?"

She wiped away tears that were starting to appear in her eyes. Nigel stopped walking and turned towards her, concern etched into his face. He placed his hands on her arms and gently ran them up and down in comfort.

"Jordan," he said softly. "Did you ever come to terms with what happened? Did you ever grieve?"

At his words, Jordan's face lost its mask completely and she closed her eyes against the tears that were coming more frequently. She shook her head.

"I tried," she said. "God, I tried. But it's hard to grieve someone when you think you might've killed them."

"You didn't," Nigel whispered firmly, glancing around. No one was around to hear them, but he was still wary. It looked as though time had made Jordan a little careless, and that wasn't good. "Jordan, you couldn't have, I know you."

"But if I was drugged or angry enough, who's to say it's not possible!" she argued.

"We can't discuss this here," Nigel told her, placing an arm around her shoulder and guiding her down the street as he glanced around again. This time, he saw a man standing in the shadows a block away. Alarms went off in Nigel's mind. How long had the man been standing there? Had he heard anything?

Thinking he was just being paranoid, Nigel turned and continued with Jordan down the street, although he quickened their pace. After another two blocks, he risked a glance behind them. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the man sliding along behind them in the shadows of the buildings. He snapped his head back around to stare straight ahead.

"Jordan, have you noticed anyone following you recently?" he whispered in genuine concern.

"No," she answered, her eyes going wide as she looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because I don't think I'm the only one who found you," he said ten times more calmly than he felt.

Jordan felt her adrenaline soar at Nigel's words. As discreetly as she could, she reached for the zipper of her purse and pulled it, slipping her hand inside and closing her fingers around her gun. With Nigel's arm tightly around her shoulder, her movements were well hidden. Nigel glanced down and saw her partially remove the weapon from her bag.

"Jesus, Jordan," he muttered, shocked.

"Girl's best friend," she replied.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her head ever so slightly and caught sight of the man lurking behind them. He had just stepped off the curb to cross the street onto the block they were currently on. In the few seconds it took to glance back, she saw the subtle movement of his hand reaching into his coat. Time seemed to stand still. Jordan sucked in a breath and held it, coming to a halt and pulling her gun all the way from the purse. Her sudden halt caused Nigel to stop beside her. He looked quickly from her drawn weapon to the man pulling his own gun from under his coat. His instinct took over.

"Get down!" he shouted at Jordan, grabbing her and pulling her down to the ground beneath him as a shot rang out in the quiet of the night. The bullet crashed through a window of the business next to them and glass shattered everywhere, raining down on top of Nigel. He buried his face in Jordan's hair, doing everything he could to protect her.

A second shot sounded, followed by the screech of tires. Nigel looked up to see a black car peel out from around the corner and speed away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Through the dust, Nigel could see the body of the man lying in the street. It was over barely ten seconds after it had started. Shaken, he carefully stood up and heard glass hit the pavement as it fell off of him. Jordan pushed herself up from the ground and grabbed the hand that he offered to stand up. He could feel her trembling. He took one more look in the direction the car had driven, and the body lying in the street.

"C'mon," he said, putting a hand at the small of her back. "Let's get out of here before the cops show up."


	3. Still Hurting

**A/N: bad Rin, hasn't updated in a long while… and has basically no excuse whatsoever. But she's gonna blame it on the ridiculous heat wave in California!** **Hope some of you guys are still following this one after such a long break between chapters. Thanks to those who continually support my story! I would be lost without you.**

**Nynaeve1723 - Thank you thank you THANK YOU for all your help and feedback, I appreciate it so much. Here's hoping the chaos ends and the muses take over soon, lol.**

**Still Hurting**

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to protect your neck when things are falling?" Jordan asked with a slight grimace, pouring antiseptic onto a thin towel to dab at the cuts on Nigel's skin.

After the shooting and their miraculous escape, the two had hurried back to Jordan's studio apartment, closed the blinds, turned off every light but one, and checked the locks on the door at least four times. Now, Jordan was attempting to clean the various cuts Nigel had received from the shattered window.

"Well it wasn't exactly my natural reaction at the time," he said, flinching as the towel came in contact with his skin.

"Sorry."

"S'all right. Let me just say, though, that it's a good thing you're a doctor to dead people."

"Oh thanks a lot!" she laughed good naturedly at his teasing, keeping on with her task.

They fell into silence, the only sounds coming from the traffic outside. Jordan dabbed gently at Nigel's neck, surprised at the steadiness of her hand. The evening had been enough to throw her off balance, mentally and physically. She had managed to avoid danger since she had arrived in D.C., and it terrified her to think that the night Nigel showed up at her door they suddenly became a target. It left her wondering how long she been followed. Or if it was even her. She did not find it hard to believe that whoever was involved in JD's murder would be watching her friends, waiting for them to expose where she was.

She swallowed hard, regretting how much danger she had probably put everyone in. At the time, it had been a matter of saving her own skin. Now there were other lives at risk. And still, all her time on the run trying to find any shred of evidence had revealed nothing. She sighed wearily.

"You all right, love?" Nigel asked her softly, his gaze dropped to the ground while she ministered to him.

"Yeah," she answered mechanically, then shook her head at her own lie. "No, not really."

"Still shaken up?"

"Kind of," she said. Biting her lip, she concentrated on keeping a neutral voice. "Nige, I think you should go back to Boston."

Beneath her hands, she felt his body drop as he exhaled in frustration. He turned around to face her, taking hold of her hands. His face looked almost as tired as she felt, and she saw a glint of sorrow in his eyes.

"I can't leave you here alone, Jordan. Not after what happened tonight," he told her. "What if it happens again?"

"That's why you need to get out of here," she said firmly. "You're in danger just by being with me. Hell, you're probably in danger just for knowing me!"

"Yeah, well that's not exactly a new story, is it?" he said with a slight smirk. "We've been here before."

"No," Jordan remained serious. "We've never been in a situation like this before. Not like this, this is completely different. I don't want you in danger because of me."

Nigel studied her face for a moment, taking in all the damage the last few months had done to her. It broke his heart to see her this frightened and helpless to do anything about it.

"Come back to Boston with me," he said, continuing quickly at the immediate, defiant look on her face. "Do you see what's going on, Jordan? You were shot at tonight! Someone out there wants to keep you quiet, and I'm bloody well not going to just up and leave you here."

"I ran, Nigel," she argued pointedly, pulling her hands out of his grasp. "That doesn't look very good when you've been accused of murder. I can't go back there."

"So you'd rather stay here and risk being murdered yourself?" he shot back at her, trying to make her see some reason. "There's nothing here, Jordan. You're running into dead ends left and right. Meanwhile, whoever is orchestrating all this has been closing in on you all this time."

"Which is why you need to leave before you get too involved!"

"I am not going back to Boston so that I can wait for your body to show up in the morgue!"

The small sound of scuffling near the door made them both freeze mid fight and turn wide eyed in that direction. In the dim light, they saw an envelope lying innocently on the floor just inside the door.

"Shit," Nigel muttered, realizing that anyone could have been listening to their argument the entire time. The old building was far from soundproof.

Jordan rose slowly from her chair and walked tentatively towards the door. She knelt and picked up the envelope as though it might bite her. She glanced at Nigel, searching for reassurance that it was harmless. He returned her skeptical look and stood up to join her. Taking the envelope from her hand, he did his best to inspect it for anything that looked suspicious.

"Nothing too strange about it," he informed her. "Not sealed, though, so there's no way we could pull DNA from saliva deposits."

Nodding her agreement, Jordan took hold of the envelope again and opened it, pulling a single sheet of paper from it with a typed note. She read it aloud.

"'If you want answers, be at The Blarney Stone at three o'clock tomorrow.'"

"They want us to go to Ireland?" Nigel questioned, slightly confused.

"No," Jordan said, slipping the note back into the envelope. "The Blarney Stone is a pub in one of the less friendly areas of the city."

"Great," he said with false enthusiasm. "This sounds off, Jordan."

"Something is happening, Nige. It's been a cold trail all this time, and now this," she held up the envelope, a spark igniting in her eyes.

"Yeah, but don't you think it's a little too easy?" he asked her in slight disbelief. Jordan was awfully quick to trust the offer.

She looked up at him, and once again he saw the desperation and the exhaustion that plagued her. He knew what she was thinking. She was reaching a breaking point, and any chance at ending her exile was to be taken.

"I know," she said. "I know this is crazy. But when have I ever let that stop me before?" she smiled sadly at him, her eyes darkening, pleading with him. "I need this to be over, Nigel. I can't live with it any longer. I have to let him go."

Before the tears could have a chance to fall down her cheeks, Nigel had pulled her into a tight embrace, rubbing her back and whispering words of comfort. Almost without thinking, he guided her to the bed and laid her down, crawling under the quilt next to her and pulling her close to him. He kissed her gently on the forehead and stroked her hair until he could hear her breathing even out in sleep before closing his own eyes and falling into uncertain dreams.

The hours passed agonizingly slowly for Jordan the next day. She had slept soundly for the first time in a long time, wrapped safely in Nigel's arms, but once day broke she was gripped with anxiety again. Her desperation to end the mystery of JD's murder was starting to frighten her. Meeting an anonymous tip was not uncommon for her, but as she had told Nigel so firmly, this was not a common circumstance.

As the time came to leave for The Blarney Stone, Jordan found herself nearly shaking in anticipation of what was to come. Despite her best attempts to dissuade him, Nigel insisted on coming with her. She was grateful for his presence as they approached the door of the establishment, tucked darkly at the rear of a dead end street. Jordan did not miss the irony. Unlike its Irish inspiration, The Blarney Stone appeared to be anything but the shine of luck.

When they entered, they were hit by the intense smell of beer and cigarettes. The place was dimly lit by hanging lamps covered in amber glass shades. Under any other circumstances, it could have been called cozy, with a wealth of wall decorations and unique knick-knacks. Save for the bartender and a man sitting at the bar, it appeared deserted. Their entrance attracted the attention of both. The bartender eyed them as he dried a mug.

"Lookin' for someone?" he asked them, not unkindly.

"Yeah," Jordan said calmly.

The bartender nodded his head towards a booth in the back.

"Over there," he said.

Jordan exchanged a look with Nigel and started hesitantly in the direction the man had indicated. The TV above the bar loudly announced the action of a baseball game. She was grateful for the noise. As they neared the table, Jordan could see the outline of a man in the booth. When she reached the table and her informer's face came into view, her jaw dropped and she had the distinct impression that her legs might actually fail her.

"Dad…"


End file.
